Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 02 Page 5

  “I am willing to lend an ear,” Talan coaxed. “You have oft enough listened to my troubles.”

  Ignoring the offer, Albin averted his eyes. “Have you ever coveted something you could not have, Talan?” His knuckles whitened as he gripped the back of the rail-back chair. “Desired it so much you felt you would go mad without it?”

  “No,” Talan responded softly. “I have not.”

  “Then pray you never do.”

  Without another word, Albin stalked from the common room as Talan stared after him with a concerned frown.

  By the light of the moon, Albin made his way to the river. With the rising tower he was sent to oversee rising in the background, he stood staring at the rippling water for some time.

  * * *

  The hour was late by the time Lecie finished with the next day’s preparations. Intent to check on the children and her father, she instructed Hamon to lock up and turn in after the last few remaining patrons departed.

  Bolting the bathing chamber’s door to take a long hot soak, she relaxed in the tepid water after washing her hair. Dozing off, the sound of Tugger whining from behind the door startled her awake. She stood with a weary sigh to dry off with a linen towel. Tempted to return to her loft in only her cream chemise, she pulled on and laced her confining kirtle of deep green lest she run into someone in the passageway.

  Absently running a comb through her drying tresses, she unbolted the door to admit the anxious dog. With tail wagging furiously, Tugger nudged her with his snout, nearly knocking her over.

  “Leave off, you giant beasty.” She gave him an affectionate pat on the head as he bounded down the steps ahead of her.

  Frowning to see Harsent had once again been lax in clearing the tables, she made her way through the kitchen to the back door. No doubt, she was sleeping off another bout of drinking. Lecie resolved to have words with the tavern wench about keeping up her end of the board agreement.

  Whining anxiously, Tugger scratched at the thick wood.

  “All right, no chasing rabbits until the morn,” Lecie scolded as she let him out. “I am too weary and cold to wait long on you,” she ended calling after the dog as he bolted into the darkness.

  Lecie chafed her arms as she stepped into the brisk air of the back garden. Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she heard Tugger bark several times in the distance. Soon after, she spotted the outline of a man returning with Tugger trotting by his side.

  Only Sir Albin’s broad muscular form could dwarf Tugger’s size. A slight smiled played about her lips as she listened to Sir Albin speak companionably to the dog.

  He drew to an abrupt halt when he spotted her in the garden.

  “Good eventide, lass,” he greeted softly.

  “Hello, Sir Albin.”

  Tugger looked from one to the other for instruction before darting back into the darkness.

  Oblivious to the dog’s absence, Albin gestured to the empty space beside him. “I did not think you meant for the dog to be out all night.”

  “No I did not,” Lecie replied breathlessly. “I would dread if something were to happen to him. He more than earns his keep by hunting rabbits for the inn.”

  “Not to mention the lad seems quite fond of him,” Albin added.

  “Aye, not to mention that,” Lecie agreed. “We are all quite fond of Tugger, drool and all.”

  “Your hair is wet, lass.” Albin reach out lightly touch the hair resting on her shoulder. “You shall catch a chill.”

  Clasping his hand, Lecie brought it to her cheek. “Thank you for caring about my wellbeing.”

  “Lecie,” Albin said hoarsely. “You need to go back inside.”

  In answer, she turned her face to kiss his hand. “And if my choice is to stay here with you instead?” Turning her gaze up to him, her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “Would you send me away, Sir Albin?”

  With a low groan of defeat, Albin pulled her into his embrace. Seizing her parted lips with his, his arms snaked around her back to draw her closer.

  Her own arms wrapping around his waist, Lecie stood on tiptoe as she moaned softly against his lips, seeking something more she could not name.

  As soon as the kiss began, Albin tore himself away to stare down at her in anguish. “I will not bring dishonor to a dying man.” Abruptly releasing her, he stalked through the back door of the inn.

  Breathless from his kiss, Lecie stared after him in confusion. Hearing the crack of a twig, she scanned the darkness by the stables. Calling loudly for Tugger, she held the door open for the dog as he came bounding out of the darkness.

  She failed to see Hamon stepping from the stables with his thin lips curled into a spiteful sneer.

  FOUR

  Lecie woke before dawn with the memory of feeling Albin’s lips on her own. Lost in thought, she stared at the roof timbers above her head replaying his curious words in her head. Wondering if her father would approve of Sir Albin, she decided to speak to him after waking the children.

  Excited for their day of leisure, the children were up and dressed by the time Lecie tucked her hair into a snood and dressed in a white linen chemise and garnet kirtle. Entering her father’s room, she found him curled on his side resting fitfully.

  “Lass,” he croaked in a hoarse whisper when she touched his shoulder. “I am parched.”

  Rushing to fill a cup of ale from the pitcher on the stand beside him, she slid her arm beneath his shoulders to prop him up. “Here, Da.”

  Taking a few swallows of the cool liquid, he dipped his head in thanks.

  “Did you rest at all?” Easing him back onto the pillows, she noted his ashen color with alarm.

  “A tad,” he whispered, searching her face. “You look different this morn.”

  “I do not know why you would say such a thing.” Lecie forced a smile. “I am the same as I was yesterday.”

  “No,” her father rasped. “There is a sparkle in your eye…you seem…happier this day.”

  Perching on the edge of the bed, Lecie reached for his hand. “Da, what do you think of Sir Albin?”

  “He is an honorable man. You could do no better.” Searching her eyes, her father gently squeezed her fingers. “Why do you ask this of me?”

  “I just wondered,” she hedged. “I believe him to be honorable as well.”

  “I see,” her father replied knowingly. “Mayhap you find him to be a handsome man as well?”

  “Da,” Lecie scolded. “I was just wondering what you thought of him, that is all.” Rising from the bed, she headed for the door. “I shall bring you some broth as soon as I see to the children.”

  “Has Sir Albin made advances towards you, lass?”

  Her father’s soft words drew Lecie up short. Turning back, she met his pain-filled gaze with a calm she did not feel. “No, Da. He has not.”

  “I thought not.” Nodding slightly, he closed his eyes. “He is far too honorable a man to shirk his duties to his lordship.”

  “What would his duties have to do with it?”

  “He is not in Rochester to woo a lass, he is here on a mission for his liege. Knights take their oaths seriously.”

  “Cannot they have a life outside of their duties?” Albin’s odd behavior began to make sense to Lecie and she suddenly felt guilty for pressing her attentions on him.

  “Often they do not.” Rolling on his side, he put an end to the conversation.

  Lost in thought on the way to the kitchen, she came to the realization that Baron Erlegh’s knights were all unattached. The baron himself had even acted displeased when she would ask after Sir Albin when he would remain behind at Castell Maen. An embarrassed flush suffused her face as she swept into the kitchen to prepare the morning meal. Being a commoner, she would never understand the rules that governed the upper classes.

  Carefully turning the pan of yeast rolls browning above the fire, she inhaled sharply as her fingers touched hot metal when Hamon’s raspy voice startled her.

  “Y
ou seem to be in high spirits this morn, Lecie.” Leaning on the table, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Now what would the reason for that be, when Edric is above gasping out his last?”

  Favoring her burned fingers Lecie whirled around to glare at the loathsome man. “How dare you speak so about my father?”

  “I am merely stating a fact is all.” Running his tongue along his thin upper lip, Hamon gave her the once-over with his eyes. “We both know soon enough you shall need the protection of a man.” Straightening he leaned his ruddy face close beside Lecie’s ear to whisper. “And we both know since you are common born a knight of the realm is too high for your aspirations.”

  “How dare you.” Leaning away from Hamon’s foul breath, Lecie slapped him hard across the face. “Pack your belongings and be gone from here.”

  “Are you giving me the sack?” Hamon’s lip quirked as he lightly touched the outline of the handprint left on his cheek. “You know as well as I you cannot.”

  “If you insist on having a man say as much, I shall have my father do it,” Lecie snapped. “Either way, by this day’s end I will see the last of you.”

  “Your father would never agree to it. He knows you cannot run the inn alone.” Unperturbed, Hamon glanced briefly over Lecie’s shoulder. “He also knows since women cannot own property, the lad will need a man to oversee things until he comes of age.”

  “It will never be you,” Lecie replied in defiance. “I would rather see the inn sold than have the likes of you run it.”

  “We shall soon enough see about that.” Hamon reached out to cup her chin with rough calloused fingers. “I suggest you learn to curb that sharp tongue and accustom yourself to the idea of my being your lord and master.”

  Jerking her face away from his touch, Lecie’s hands itched to slap him again. “Be gone from my sight, or I shall set Tugger upon you.”

  “That worthless beasty cowers at the sound of thunder.” Pausing on his way out, he turned back to her. “By the way, your rolls are scorched.”

  * * *

  Albin was nervously pacing in his chamber, dreading the thought of facing Lecie.

  Dressed in his standard attire of black breeches and tunic bearing the Erlegh coat of arms, his boot heels kept up a repetitive tattoo on the planked flooring.

  Raking his hands roughly through his tousled hair, he tormented himself with thoughts of what she must think of him.

  “Zounds,” he swore upon hearing a soft knock on the door. Half fearing it would be Lecie he drew the bed curtains to conceal the unkempt bed. With a deep calming breath, he cursed again to see his hand shake as he twisted the latch.

  “Did you say something, Sir Albin? I could not make it out.”

  Albin’s eyes dropped to Clayton standing in the passageway sporting a big dimpled grin. “Morning, lad,” Albin managed to grumble. “It was nothing worth repeating.”

  “In that case, my father sent me to say he would like a word with you this morn if you are able to accommodate him.”

  “Your father wishes to speak with me?” His mind reeling at the implications, Albin scanned the passageway half expecting to see Edric approaching.

  “Aye, that is what he said, exactly.” Throwing up a hand in parting, Clayton took off at a run. “I shall see you later. I need to finish my chores before the festival.”

  Lost to his troubled thoughts, Albin watched him go. Lecie must have confessed his inappropriate behavior of the evening past.

  The one thing he swore he would never do had come to pass. He had brought shame and dishonor to a dying man.

  Prepared to accept the consequences, he straightened to his full height and boldly headed down the hall. It was only staring at Edric’s door that his hand briefly hesitated as he raised it to knock.

  Hearing the raspy summons to enter, he swallowed hard and opened the door. “You wished to see me, Edric?” Closing the door behind him, Albin moved to the bed.

  “Aye, I did.” Edric struggled to prop himself up as Albin rushed to lend assist. “Thank you, Sir Albin.” Gesturing to the stool in the corner, he continued, “Please be more comfortable.”

  Dragging the stool beside the bed, Albin perched uncomfortably on the edge fearing it would collapse should he put his full weight upon it. “I am prepared to make amends in any way you deem fitting, Edric,” Albin began.

  Edric’s brow drew up in confusion as a series of wracking coughs shook his emaciated frame. Accepting the cup of ale from Albin, he took a long drink before handing it back. “Thank you.”

  “Have your say,” Albin said solemnly meeting the elder man’s gaze.

  “As you know, I am not long for this world.” Edric weakly waved a hand when Albin would protest. “If not for the precarious state in which I leave my children, I would even now seek my eternal rest.”

  “And Lecie?” Albin questioned softly.

  “Aye, and Lecie,” Edric agreed. “I fear she shall have the weight of the world on her slight shoulders once I have passed.” Struggling for breath, he shifted his gaze to Albin. “Would you grant a favor to a dying man, Sir Albin?”

  “Name it,” Albin replied with conviction. “Whatever it is, it shall be so.”

  “Given his lordship’s permission, I would have you take my Lecie to wife.” Edric reached out to grip Albin’s hand. “I shall rest easier knowing she has one such as you to look after her.”

  The last thing he expected Albin’s chiseled brows drew together as words to respond escaped him.

  “I know what I ask is not just.” Edric broke the uncomfortable silence. “We are naught but commoners, yet my fear is what emboldens me to do so.”

  Hamon’s visage flashed through Albin’s mind as he calmly met Edric’s gaze. “If the lass would have me for her husband, I vow it.”

  Edric’s entire body relaxed as tears filled his eyes. Blinking away the moisture, he could only nod in thanks.

  “Rest at ease, my friend.” Albin lightly clasped his forearm as he stood. “Lecie and the children shall want for nothing so long as I shall live.”

  Leaving Edric to rest, Albin stepped into the hall. Expecting the worst, Edric had given him what he wanted most.

  Glad no one was about, he headed to his chamber to sort through the latest turn of events.

  * * *

  By late morning, the common room was empty and the children were fidgeting anxiously, waiting for Albin to escort them to the festival.

  Once the casks of ale and earthenware cups were on the way to the ale stand in the village square, Lecie busied herself with preparations for the evening meal. The inn boasted a large crowd on festival days, as the end of harvest celebration often carried into the wee hours of the morning.

  Her hair tied back in a snood, she absently brushed a hand along her brow leaving a light dusting of flour behind. The trenchers ready to hold the meat already roasting on the spit in the common room, she slid another tray of rolls above the hearth fire.

  “Hello, lass.”

  Albin’s deep voice had her self-consciously reaching for her hair as she looked up. “Hello, Sir Albin.”

  “Could you spare a moment to step into the garden with me for some fresh air?”

  “Is anything wrong?” Wiping her hands on the apron around her waist, Lecie hurriedly untied it.

  “That all depends on how you look at it.”

  Setting the apron aside, Lecie’s brow furrowed at his odd response.

  “Sir Albin!” Clayton came running into the kitchen followed by Osana and Sabina. “Are you ready for the festival?”

  Albin hid his frustration behind a smile. “I am indeed, lad.”

  “Clayton,” Lecie began. “Sir Albin and I were talking.”

  “What about?” Osana piped in.

  “I do not think it is any of our business,” Sabina chided her twin softly.

  “It is nothing that cannot wait until later this eve.” Albin turned his attention back to Lecie. “Are you sure you cannot join us?”
<
br />   “Unfortunately, I am needed here.” Lecie returned his smile. “Still, I hope you enjoy the day.”

  As the children headed outside, Lecie called them back. From a shelf built into the stone above the hearth, she retrieved an earthenware jar. Tipping out the contents into her palm, she distributed the few coins inside to the children. “Have a care to the amount of sweets you eat or you shall all have bellyaches before nightfall.”

  Clayton wrapped his arms around her waist in a brief hug. “Thank you.” With an ear-splitting whoop of joy, he darted out the door.

  More demure, the twins shared a pleased smile and began to discuss what they would purchase with their newfound wealth.

  Albin watched the small trio exit with a fond smile before facing Lecie. “It was to be my treat today, lass.”

  “We are beholden to you enough as it is, Sir Albin.”

  “Lecie,” he hesitated, capturing her gaze. “I do not have a way with words and could never spout a sonnet like Sir Guy.”

  When he fell silent, she stepped closer to him. “Do you think it is pretty words I seek?”

  “No.” He shook his head with a slight smile. “I know you to have more substance than that. I cannot imagine your head being turned by mere words, however pretty sounding they may be.”

  “And are you trying to turn my head?” Lecie searched the depths of his warm brown gaze. “I warrant it would not take much.”

  “Lecie…”

  “Sir Albin, where are you?” Clayton called loudly from the yard. “If we tarry overlong we shall miss the puppet show.”

  “You best be going.” Backing away, Lecie retrieved her apron with a smile. “I vow the children shall be dragging you out by your ears should you delay further.”

  “Aye, no doubt they would.” Inhaling deeply, Albin smiled. “We shall speak later?”

  “We shall,” Lecie responded softly. “And I shall look forward to it.”

  Albin hesitated at the door. With his hand on the latch, he turned back to her. “Are you sure you cannot join us?”